


Seven Minute Solution

by distractionpie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate universe - their biggest problems are personal drama not mass murder, Ambiguous Age, BUT IF THAT WAS PUTTING ANYBODY OFF IGNORE IT IT WAS A MISTAKE, First Kiss, I JUST REALISED I ACCIDENTALLY TAGGED THIS ALCOHOL ABUSE, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Reiberween, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, That's it, alcohol mention, i only tagged it at all because the event requested alcohol be tagged for, there is a brief mention of having a few beers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 07:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distractionpie/pseuds/distractionpie
Summary: When a game of truth or dare leads to Sasha and Connie making Bertholdt the target of the evening's party games, Reiner steps up with a plan meant to get them off his back without a fight. But when plan A doesn't work out quite as he'd hoped, Reiner has to take a more hands on approach and accidentally makes a personal discovery in the process.





	Seven Minute Solution

It was Friday night, Reiner had used the fact he looked older than his age to score a few cases of beer, they were having a party and because his friends were all immature, the even had quickly descended into playing ridiculous games like seven minutes in heaven — heaven in this case being a storage closet.

"And it’s ... Bertholdt!" Sasha yelled, throwing her arms up from where she’d been checking where the bottle landed.

Reiner squinted. He was fairly certain it was pointed more in Armin's direction, and if Sasha hadn't knocked it when she was leaning over to check the position it would have been pointing at Ymir. But the thought of being locked in a closet with Ymir was kind of ominous and, while Armin would probably be chill, if he went with Bertholdt now then his friend might be able to use that to argue himself some slack if another spin picked him for real.

Downing his beer so that none of the idiots could steal or spill it, Reiner climbed to his feet. "Alright."

He strode over to the closet, Bertholdt shuffling behind him. Sasha, as the game's self-declared overseer was surprisingly slow to follow, as if she'd expected them to offer more resistance, which was naïve because Bertholdt was far to susceptible to peer pressure to put up a fight with all their friends watching him expectantly and Reiner had better things to spend his energy on than squabbling over spending a few minutes hanging out with a friend, even in an awkward environment.

It was uncomfortably cramped as they arranged themselves in the closet, because it was him and Bertholdt and they were the two biggest guys in class, Bertholdt more than balancing what he lacked in bulks with the space required to fold his rangy limbs into. But even when Sasha slammed the door shut behind them, it wasn't awkward because it was him and Bertholdt and they were used to close quarters, default tent-mates on camp-outs and bench buddies at dinner even if it meant squashing into spaces designed to fit two normal sized humans but would require either of them to find smaller partners if they wanted to average out.

"Well, this blows," he complained. The others were all going to be out there drinking his beer while he was stuck in here as if they weren't all too old for two guys shut in a closet to be exciting or gossip worthy. "Who knew half of our friends are still twelve-year-old virgins who'd pick a kid's game like this."

"Ah- It's my fault," Bertholdt murmured.

Unsurprised, Reiner cuts him off before he can do anything ridiculous like apologise. "You didn't suggest the dumb game, and it was just luck the spin landed that way. And maybe Sasha needs to go for an eye test for her weird depth perception."

"No, Sasha knows it wasn't really pointing at me, but we were playing truth or dare earlier while you were helping Armin with the snacks, and Krista asked who my first kiss was."

"So?" 

"Well, when I said I hadn't had one Ymir suggested that the goal of the games for tonight should be to change that. I don't think she was serious but then Connie and Sasha got excited, asking what the prize was for whoever managed the challenge."

Reiner frowned. Sometimes he worries about the intelligence of his friends. "They're so determined to give you your first kiss, why doesn't one of them just ask to kiss you?" That would be the quickest way to achieve Ymir's goal and the only part about it that would be a challenge would be Connie trying to reach Bertholdt's face.

Perhaps they were just assuming he’d say no, certainly Bertholdt had never shown any interest in kissing any of their friends, but he felt Bertholdt shrug, brushing again him in the confined quarters. "They agreed something about them doing it not spirit of things ," he said. "You know how they are once they make a challenge of something."

"They aren't going to let it go now," Reiner acknowledges. If they’d decided Bertholdt should get kissed in a game, then that would be how it went down. It would be kissing games all night until they got their way, without a single thought for the fact that being pressured into kissing in front of everyone just because would hardly make for an enjoyable experience.

Plus, he really didn’t the whole party to be centred around kissing games just because Sasha and Connie had got themselves a notion (why couldn’t they just flirt like normal couples) but Bertholdt wasn't assertive enough to get them to knock it off, and if Reiner spoke up for him all it would mean was they'd start trying to divert his attention so they could carry on their shenanigans without witnesses and if they were going to mess with Bertholdt he'd rather be aware of it so he can step in before they get carried away and push him too far.

"Well, there's one easy way to get them to stop," he pointed out. "Let them think they've won." Giving them a taste of success would come with the consequence of encouraging further mischief, but there's a good chance they'll move onto a target more likely to push back at them. Jean could use the stick up his ass loosening some, and his inevitable revenge would distract them from Bertholdt for a while. 

"You mean convince them I've had my first kiss so their game ends?" 

Reiner could imagine Bertholdt's thoughtful expression, as he considered the idea, his question being more in search of confirmation than clarification because Bertholdt was smart he just lacked confidence in his conclusions.

“The point of playing seven minutes in heaven is closet make-outs,” Reiner explained. “They sent us in here as part of their little mission to get you kissed, so we just say I acted in the spirit of the game and kissed you.”

"I’m not sure they’d accept just being told it happened," Bertholdt objected.

Connie and Sasha could be pretty dogged, but, "Nah, they know you're a pretty private guy," Reiner pointed out. "And they think having no poker face must mean you're a bad liar, and that being bad liar is a reason to be honest, so it wouldn’t occur to them that you’re tricking them." In truth, it was almost impossible for even somebody who knew him as well as Reiner did to get a read on what was going on in his head, because observing he was acting shifty could mean that he was hiding something or it could mean you were making too much eye contact or he'd just been hit by a wave of secondhand embarrassment because something in his surroundings has reminded him of that time Eren had accidentally called professor Hanji 'dad'.

But Bertholdt still sounded dubious as he said, "You say that as if my bad poker face isn't going to give us away. They might be trusting, but they‘ll be suspicious if all the evidence contradicts what I say."

"Yes, but it won't."

"Reiner..."

"You trust me, right?" he asked, then pressed on because they both knew the answer. "I'm not going to make the whole plan hinge on your lying skills. We're going to make you look like we've been making out in here, then they'll judge based on what they see. You might not even have to lie, I'm an expert, I'll get you looking so kissed they'll assume it happened and you’re just embarrassed if you deny it."

"You’ll...?" Bertholdt sounded alarmed as he said, "Maybe I should just handle Connie and Sasha, it’s just games, they can’t--"

"No, trust me. It'll be easy, all we have to do is ruffle you up a bit," Reiner reassured him, reaching up to muss Bertholdt's hair. A noogie wasn’t much like make-out hair, but it’s not like Connie was an expert on the differences.

He squinted at Bertholdt through the darkness, then frowned. Bertholdt’s hair grew thick and straight, so much so that the moment Reiner had removed his hands the strands had flopped back into place.

"Damn..."

"What?"

"Nothing," he assured Bertholdt. "Artistry takes effort, that’s all."

He could absolutely do this. Even if Bertholdt's hair had some strange immunity on dishevelment (presumably evolved to protect him from the horrendous bedhead his sleeping positions would otherwise lead to), there were plenty of ways a person could be ruffled and Reiner knew all about them.

For starters, there was Bertholdt’s perfectly tucked in shirt and sweater. It might suggest something getting a bit beyond a first kiss, at least for somebody as shy as Bertholdt could be, but it was unlikely Sasha and Connie would think that deeply about it.

He reached up, not that it was exactly far to reach, crammed almost chest to chest as they were.

The material of Bertholdt’s sweater was fluffy under his hands, but when he started trying to crease it...

"How much starch does your mother put in her laundry?" he complained. The stiffness with which it held its shape had to be uncomfortable. Not that it was surprising once he thought about it. He well knew that Bertholdt had been raised under a mess of circular logical about how looking like you had your shit together was a key part of having your shit together — he suspected it was well meant but mostly it had lead Bertholdt to feeling like he was responsible for his own anxiety and trying and failing to manage it via being overly neat and organised.

"She likes me to look smart," Bertholdt muttered and Reiner sighed.

"Are you definitely okay with me making a mess of you?" he checked. Fending off Connie and Sasha’s borderline sexual harassment is of little benefit if the process involves triggering his anxiety.

"Yeah, it’s fine," Bertholdt reassured him. "I’ll have time to make myself neat again before she sees. It’s not like you’re doing anything lasting."

"Fair enough." Although a hickey would go a long way to making this deception convincing.

"So do I looked kissed?" Bertholdt asked.

Reiner sighed. He’d done his best and it was hard to see in the dark, but, "A bit, I guess," but mostly the slightly dishevelled hair and creased sweater just gave him an air of being end-of-a-long-day rumpled that could easily be explained away just by the fact they’d been crammed into a closet — there was no sign of the heat or excitement that should come from a good make-out session.

He started to see why Bertholdt was so skeptical of the plan. For a guy who was so easy to fluster it was surprisingly hard to make him look especially so. Or maybe kissing was just harder to fake than Reiner had guessed. After all, his usual process of making people look like they'd been on the receiving end of mind blowing make-outs involved the actual deed. 

"I guess that will have to do," Bertholdt sighed. "Maybe something will have happened out there while we're in here that will distract them from me."

Bertholdt's attempt at optimism to reassure him was sweet, but he didn’t want to take that chance. "That's not good enough!" If they were going to convince others they'd been making out in here, Reiner wasn't going to have anyone thinking he'd done a lacklustre job of it.

It’s a matter of pride. Plus if Connie and Sasha think he gave Bertholdt a sub-par first kiss, they’ll just angle for a do-over.

Desperate times called for drastic measures. "Are you saving it for someone?" 

"What?"

"The reason you haven’t had your first kiss yet because you’re saving it?" Reiner asked. He’d never understood wanting to make something special out of the awkwardness of inexperience, but if that matters to Bertholdt then he won’t ruin it.

"Uh... No, I’ve just never had a reason to kiss somebody," Bertholdt admitted. "I’ve never been that interested in anybody, and who would want to kiss me?"

Reiner blinked, momentarily sidetracked. Sure, Bertholdt’s awkward personality narrowed his dating pool to those with the good taste to appreciate him but if he’d indicated an interest in giving away his first kiss, or even more, then Reiner was sure there’d be takers. Bertholdt just didn’t know how to put across the impression of being open to offers.

"Why wouldn’t they? Have you tried?" He’d always assumed Bertholdt’s permanently single status stemmed from a lack of interest, not that he thought he couldn’t find somebody if he asked.

"I’m not social enough to catch anyone’s attention," Bertholdt explained. "And my looks are boring, brown hair and brown eyes aren’t exciting to anyone. And then there’s the problem of my height--"

"Everyone is attracted to tall people," Reiner corrected, bemused. And lots of people went for the quiet, mysterious type, even if Bertholdt wasn’t social enough to know it. "You’re lots of people’s type. Put down the textbooks and read a magazine sometime."

"I think there might be an upper limit on that," Bertholdt muttered, but they were getting off track and their seven minutes must be nearly up.

"What I’m saying is if you just want to get it over with so everyone will get off your back, we could do it," Reiner blurted out.

He waited a moment for Bertholdt’s reaction, squinting through the darkness in case there were tells in his face or body language, but after a few moments it became clear that none was forthcoming.

Bertholdt, Reiner suspected, had panicked so hard he’d frozen.

"They’ll keep forcing you into kissing games until it happens," Reiner explained. Now understood the situation, he was certain that Sasha knocked the bottle deliberately and that every spin that came even close to Bertholdt will be called as pointing at him until the deed was done, hence the need to make Bertholdt appear kissed. But they’re running out of time, and Reiner knows he’s better at the real thing than he’s turning out to be at faking. “The easiest way to make you look convincingly kissed is for you to let me kiss you. Then problem solved."

"You make it sound so simple," Bertholdt remarked slowly, and Reiner mentally revised his opinion on how much value Bertholdt placed on his first kiss if he thought it had to be complicated.

"It is. Don’t worry, I’m good at it. But you don’t have to; you can deal with Connie and Sasha yourself, if you’d rather," he offered, although he was certain Bertholdt would not rather. It would be insulting if he had selected putting up with their harassment over a quick kiss with Reiner.

"If you think it would help."

Huh.

He’d known Bertholdt would see the sense of his idea, but he’d expected the process to involve more persuading than that. Then again, Reiner was his best friend so nothing between the two of them should be too intimidating, unlike being sexually harassed by the terrible twosome.

So, game time.

Reiner licked his lips, wishing he had time to pop a mint, as he considered his approach. He’d kissed a fair number of people, but never anybody taller than him, and most of his previous partners had kissed before, but given that Bertholdt was inexperienced and prone to nerves Reiner would be doing all the work here.

He returned his hands to Bertholdt’s hair. It might not ruffle, but cupping his head was the easiest way to guide him into hunching over a little so Reiner didn’t have to do anything too weird like stretch upward to reach.

It was still strange though, pressing his lips to Bertholdt's and not having to stoop, and that even as he dropped his hands to Bertholdt’s shoulders he was still reaching upward.

Being somebody’s first kiss was an awful lot of responsibility, a responsibility Reiner had never had before despite all his experience, and the fact it was Bertholdt and he was kissing back with a hesitance that revealed that, no matter how ridiculous their reasons to be doing it were, he was taking the kiss seriously, only added to the pressure.

Bertholdt was tentative and Reiner felt strangely wrong-footed by how different this was from any of his previous kisses, not just Bertholdt’s height but the urge to take care rather that just rush ahead to the good stuff, but he was going to have to go a little harder than this to leave an impression the others could see. But how to balance that against his responsibility to make it good? Which with Bertholdt undoubtedly meant not rushing, both so Bertholdt had a good memory of it and because if he didn't Bertholdt was the type who might think not enjoying their kiss meant he didn’t like kissing and never try it again to avoid further awkwardness. Reiner definitely wasn't going to be the guy who turned him off kissing for life. 

Was tongue too much? It wouldn’t technically help with the look of things, but it might get more of a reaction out of Bertholdt that would ensure the others knew Reiner had done a good job of this.

No, Reiner was getting ahead of himself.

The top priority had to be making sure Bertholdt looked rumpled; so Reiner ran his hands down his friend’s back, determined to put a real crease in that damned sweater, though he stopped short of Bertholdt’s belt — this was a first kiss after all.

Instead, he tucked his hands under the hem, feeling the lean muscle of Bertholdt’s lower back tense beneath his hands as he grabbed Bertholdt’s shirt, tugging upward until it came untucked, Reiner’s fingers skimming over burning hot skin as released the bunched fabric.

The soft startled sound that escaped Bertholdt had him bringing his hands back up, one falling safely onto his slim shoulder and the other stroking soothingly at his face in an unspoken promise that Reiner hadn’t forgotten himself or who he was with, wasn’t going to push the trick further that Bertholdt was comfortable with.

Although the noise — half squeak, half whimper, and so comically cute that Reiner isn’t sure he’d have been able to resist the urge to tease had he provoked it under any other circumstances — had seemed more surprised that distressed. So maybe Reiner could touch more, fluster him more thoroughly, just so long as he kept his pace steady enough not to startle again.

Feel daring, Reiner parted his own lips and felt Bertholdt’s lips, soft from the chapstick he carried with him in an attempt to counteract the habit of biting his lips when he was nervous, mimic the movement and allow Reiner to deepen the kiss.

His explorations stayed slow, not wanted to test Bertholdt’s willingness to be led by crossing over the line into pushing, gently learning the feel of Bertholdt. But after a few moments, there was an unexpected brush of tongue against his and Reiner slowed further and realised with an odd thrill of pride that Bertholdt was copying Reiner’s movements in order to reciprocate.

As a kisser, Bertholdt was tentative and careful, something Reiner suspected would be true even if he had experience, but he was also a fast learner, not nearly as sloppy and fumbling as Reiner remembered being the first time he kissed somebody although Bertholdt did have the advantage of being several years removed from being a wildly overenthusiastic pre-teen.

“Woah!”

At the sudden rush of light, Bertholdt jolted upright and Reiner followed him on instinct, raising onto tiptoes to match his height before realising that the open door meant that their time was up and he no longer needed to be kissing Bertholdt.

He dropped to his heels, as Bertholdt leaned back against the wall of the closet, the sudden space between them only highlighting that they’d been pressed far closer than even the confines of the closet demanded.

Holding open the door was Connie — staring at them, bug eyed, which solved the problem of if he’d believe they had been kissing or not.

“I... you... huh...” the shock seemed to have stolen his words, but the effect was only momentary before he grinned and said, with customary cheek, “Do you need me to tell Sasha to give you seven more minutes?”

Reiner ignored him.

Across from him, Bertholdt seemed to be dealing with the sudden embarrassment by closing his eyes — probably to pretend Connie wasn’t there or perhaps imaging himself somewhere other than at the fiasco of a party. His face was red but Bertholdt blushed at the frequency most people blinked, the rare occasions he was utterly unflustered were far more noteworthy. But usually his lips weren’t rosy as his cheeks, and Reiner hadn’t meant to be rough on him but damn if that didn’t make him look properly kissed.

With his eyes wide and his shirt and sweater half-untucked — although Bertholdt’s mother’s ironing technique must involve dark rituals because it still wasn’t creased — there was no wonder why Connie had thought they might need more time. Reiner’s initial efforts were clearly more effective than they’d seemed in the dark and had left Bertholdt looking like he’d allowed Reiner rather more liberties than were typically associated with a first kiss but rumpled suited him, and the knowledge that he looked this good from a quick closet kiss made Reiner wonder just how much better he’d look if he truly had been more thoroughly debauched.

Like how he’d look after a better second kiss, somewhere Reiner could actually see Bertholdt’s reactions and take his time learning how to coax out the best ones, what other little noises and shivers Bertholdt might share if handled right

Oh.

He almost fell out of the closet, in his haste to put space between himself and Bertholdt. 

Bertholdt whose face was bright with a flush (that as his best friend Reiner knew spread the whole way down his chest) just from a quick kiss to those chapstick-soft lips and a handful of mostly innocent touches that had drawn soft noises of surprise that might hint at the sounds he’d make if Reiner showed him true heights of pleasure.

And Reiner wanted that.

He wanted to scramble back in that closet and slam the door in Connie’s face, press Bertholdt against the wall and show him what seven minutes of heaven really felt like. But Bertholdt had never shown any indication of wanting anyone, let alone Reiner who’s history of getting around could be too much for somebody who’d made it this far holding on to his first kiss, so if that was too fast for Bertholdt, if he wanted to take it slow and approach every milestone with the reserve with which he’d held onto that first kiss? Well, Reiner could do that too, although it would probably involve a lot of showers and him growing closer with his hand than he’d been in years.

Of course, that assumed that Bertholdt was interested in letting Reiner kiss him again at all.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been proofread, but if you found anywhere that Bertholdt's name is inconsistent please let me know because between the two different canon spellings plus my phone's autocorrect and random typos there were about six different variations at one point in my drafting process!


End file.
